Page 63 of The Cheapside Runners
“I believe you. I must away,” she said emphatically.
“Might I beg an introduction, or at least your name, Miss? You know mine, and fair is fair.”
She hesitated a moment, then said, “Mrs Duff,” then moved away with unnerving though subtle speed to speak momentarily to a young debutant in a light pink ballgown.
After speaking for perhaps half a minute, the young lady excused herself from her partner, who was more fascinated with Wickham’s plight than his dance partner anyway. The pair then walked quickly but discreetly over to a man who looked old enough to be an uncle or grandfather.
Darcy surmised he was probably her guardian or chaperone, and not quite up to protecting her from the Wickhams of the world.
His cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared, so he was briefly distracted by telling him of Wickham’s presence and his promise to take care of the rogue. Fitzwilliam got an evil grin on his face, and since he had been somewhat disappointed by Mr Gardiner’s quick action, he grabbed a couple of junior officers. Once they had their orders, the men dragged the still struggling Wickham, who had cast up his accounts on the floor, and Fitzwilliam returned to his cousin.
“Say, Darcy, who was that virago? That was some smooth work. Palm in the solar plexus if I am not mistaken. Wickham is lucky she did not kill him.”
“I just met her and exchanged a few words.”
“Did any of those words include a name… a Miss?”
“Unfortunately for you, it is Mrs,” Darcy began, but then burst out laughing as a stray thought struck him.
“What is so funny? It is not as if I want to marry her. I do not think I could sleep at night after an argument with a woman like that. I take my life in my own hands often enough with the army.”
Darcy laughed a bit more, which annoyed the colonel no end—which just increased Darcy’s mirth.
“She did introduce herself eventually, and I would have some words with her so I must away.”
“What is so blasted funny?”
“Her name is Mrs Duff.”
The colonel scratched his head. “And that is funny how?”
“Unless I am mistaken, it is the anglicised version of the GaelicDubh?”
“I still fail to understand.”
“It means Black,” Darcy replied in booming laughter, then left his cousin laughing along with him as he went over to speak to the young lady and her guardian.
Darcy approached Wickham’s intended victim, quickly introduced himself, and got down to business.
“Is that card she handed you for the Cheapside Runners?”
“It is,” he said uncertainly. “What of it?”
“I just wish to assure you in the strongest possible terms that contacting them would be in your best interest. They have done me a very good turn.”
He handed the man his card. “Call on me or send round a note and we can speak in some detail. I must away.”
He had just seen the elusive Mrs Duff, who he assumed was the redoubtable Mrs Black, enter a servant’s door at the back of the ballroom, and he headed along to join her.
~~~~~
When the action seemed mostly over, with a couple of officers dragging away the man they assumed was Mrs Black’smiscreant, and her dance partner going over to speak to the lady who seemed likely to be the intended victim, they stepped back from the edge.
Jane said, “I believe we came within an inch of breaking Mrs Black’s anonymity taboo.”
Georgiana said, “I apologise for that.”
Mary said, “I doubt very much we are intended to keep it forever anyway. I strongly suspect Mrs Black will relax the restriction, at least among us, before long.”
